


12 days of presents

by Elphen



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Gifts, M/M, helping Laura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 13:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's December and Hathaway finds he's the recipient of a string of presents with no apparent sender. Interest piqued, he investigates.<br/>G-rated chapter 1-12, M-rated for the last chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> How productive I suddenly am...just a little something born of a Christmas mood and to celebrate the weekend. Hathaway is so often the smart-alec, I thought it fitting to make him be in the dark for once. Not beta'd at all, mistakes and cock-ups are all my own.

The first day it happened, he didn’t think that much of it. Of course it was a strange thing to find on your desk first thing in the morning. Not a bad one, definitely, but even given the time of year it was definitely in the ‘odd’ category to find a present, complete with ribbon and tag, sitting in front of his computer screen. No one was in at this time of morning and there was no indication of anyone having been in the room since it had been left yesterday evening, far too late.

He picked up the small box and stared at it. Then he looked at the tag. ‘To DS James Hathaway on the first day of Christmas’ it said in neat, capital letters. There was nothing to reveal the identity of the sender; the writing was as deliberately bog standard as it was possible to get with handwriting. The wrapping was done at a store, of that he was sure, but the ribbon bore none of the usual signs of store, such as a brand name or sickeningly sweet motto, so that was no help either.

“But it’s not the first day of Christmas at all,” the blond mumbled and shook his head slightly. It was, in fact, December 2nd and bitterly cold already. Long, lean fingers made clumsy work of un-wrapping the box due to stiffness in them caused by the cold weather and the office’s heater having kicked the bucket about a week earlier.

About to take off the lid of the box, Hathaway paused. This could be some joke being played on him by someone in the station, but whom and why? An effort to put him down a peg? But why then go to so much trouble? He surely hadn’t riled up anyone enough for that. Checking that there was indeed no one lurking in the doorframe to see his potential humiliation, he took off the lid.

Nestled in silk-paper lay something purple and tightly rolled up. Expecting it to be a tie, the sergeant pulled it out and found that it was not a tie, but a scarf. Soft – made of quality wool, if he’s any judge – and just long enough to wrap comfortably around his too-long neck. At each end of it was the letter J, simple and none-fancy, sown into the wool with yellow thread. James let it run through his hands, enjoying the feel.

“Looks nice, that. Some kind of admirer you’re keeping tight about, sergeant?” The voice made his head jerk up sharply, almost colliding with the face of his inspector, standing too close and wearing a fondly amused smile that annoyed and pleased the younger man in equal measures. The butterflies it caused in his stomach he firmly ignored.

“Well, sir, it _is_ the season of giving,” he replied, dry as an autumn leaf, looking the other firmly in the eye while keeping his face absolutely deadpan. The slight pinkness of his cheeks he willed Lewis to think of as results of the cold room. “I might have bought it for myself, too, to celebrate the coming of this bitingly cold season.”

“Yes, yes, of course you might. Daft of me to suggest anything else, really.” As the older man let out a slight snort, smiling wryly at his sergeant, and went back to his desk, Hathaway stuffed the scarf back down into the box somewhat quickly. Pinkness still staining his cheeks and still being steadfastly ignored, the lid was put on rather hurriedly and as a result badly and he shoved the whole thing into a drawer in his desk. He did not open the drawer again all throughout the day and when he went home, it was still there. Forgotten and alone. But not for long.


	2. On the second day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second present arrives and Hathaway thinks he's worked out who the sender is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have this finished yesterday, but an unlucky trip down the stairs meant i spent most of the day in casualty :(  
> All unbeta'ed so mistakes are all mine and mine alone.

There was no present the next day and so James breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been Dr. Hobson who had put the present on his desk the day before, he mused as he booted up his computer. She was as good at picking up on things as any detective and she did seem to have taken a shine to the dishy Sergeant Hathaway, though mostly in a maternal fashion.

So he fished the scarf out of the drawer and wrapped it tightly around his neck. When his superior came in 10 minutes later the sergeant got a visual once-over that sent futilely suppressed shivers down his spine and a soft smile before Lewis sat down at his own desk.

The scarf was warm and soft against his skin and while striding along behind the inspector on their way to interview a possible suspect he wondered idly what kind of wool it was. Definitely not sheep – alpaca, perhaps? He mentally shrugged, pulled out a cigarette and as he took his first long drag – which earned him the fourth sideways stare of fond annoyance of the day, but who was counting? – he wrote on his mental checklist to thank Laura the next day.

On the damnably cold morning of December 4th, however, there it was. Another small box that looked almost identical to the one adorning his desk two days earlier. The ribbon was a different colour and the tag read ‘For the dishy Sergeant Hathaway on the second day of Christmas’ in the same bland capital letters, but other than that it was a strange sort of déjà vu. James almost expected it to be another scarf, perhaps in a sea foam green colour or something similar. It would probably match his eyes. Or something.

What he picked out of yet another bout of silk paper was neither a scarf nor the tie he’d assumed the first day. Black cotton covered plastic combined two pads of softness covered in purple wool. The same colour and the same type of wool his scarf was made in, though there thankfully was no Js sown into the wool.

He made a non-committal noise when Lewis finally arrived and commented that it had been smart of him to get something to cover ‘those flippin’ long ears of his’ as it was none-too-finely put. To give him credit, though, there was no other comment, catty or otherwise, from the older man about the gift. James kept his mouth shut, too, instead smiling softly as he placed the box next to his screen. He thoroughly loved their banter, though he was glad he got off the thing with the present so easily this time, would often spend time remembering their best ones, concentrating on the expressions made by Lewis, be they smile or snort, grin or groan or something in-between.

Arriving at the scene of another crime, they stood as close to each as the sergeant could manage without it causing comments, and looked down at Dr. Hobson going over what was once a woman and now was a corpse. A corpse with a cut throat and bones broken in more places than Laura cared to name.

Lewis told Hathaway to deal with the more pleasant of their task – he had to lift one pad of the earmuffs to be heard, too, which he grumbled about in his Northerner way – and went off to inform Innocent of the latest victim. Meanwhile Dr. Hobson explained the gory, but vital details she could give at that point and the sergeant jotted them down with concentration as she dusted herself off and started packing up. James looked on as the small woman put her things back in their rightful places and was about to thank her for both of the very nice presents when she turned to him and waved at his outfit, smiling.

“Very nice scarf and earmuffs you’ve got there. Matching set, too, I see – the purple suit you, sergeant. Did you buy them yourself or is there a special someone” – not mentioning gender, how perceptive Laura could be at times – “you’re keeping quiet about?”

Hathaway could only shake his head. She smiled at him again and mumbled something about it being nice to have someone herself to do that kind of thing for her. He nodded, a little absently, and lit up another cigarette as he wondered. If it wasn’t Laura – and it clearly wasn’t, she was bad at telling lies– who was bringing him gifts, who was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as short, but still sweet, I hope. Again, if there is any problems with the characterisation, let me know - and if you've got any ingenious present-for-Hathaway ideas, too, of course :)


	3. On the third day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the weekend and Hathaway believes he'll be safe from any sort of present. Little does he know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still very much unbeta'ed, so my mistakes and my bad

December 6th was a Saturday. They’d gotten their confession for the murdering of the young woman they’d found on the 4th and the two other students before her from a young man working at a gym they’d initially interviewed and found nothing suspect about.

Well, confession was stretching it. When they’d interviewed him again the night before, he had obviously felt he’d been caught and had lunged for the inspector, only to be grabbed by Hathaway. The man had hissed about all better-than-thou Oxford students deserving what they had coming to them. The sergeant had raised his eyebrows and pointed out that some of the most self-righteous graduates went to Cambridge.

Now James was more than ready to spend a quiet day at home with his Gibson and a lovely bottle of wine. Perhaps he’d have some quality time with his fantasies and his hand towards night fall. First, though, he had to do a quick run down to the shops. Even self-righteous Cambridge graduates had to eat at some point, though Gödel would probably disagree. He would have day all to himself without any kind of gift sitting at his desk, mocking him quietly, though he might arrive at work after the weekend to find two presents sitting there. He had a suspicion that whoever was responsible, they really were going to through with all twelve days, though why they’d botched the time of the month he wasn’t sure. Perhaps because it’d be hard to play a prank on him when everyone was celebrating Christmas and New Year’s.

As soon as he opened the door, though, he knew that he would not be let off this day. For one thing he was just about to step on the small, square parcel, perched on the cold concrete of the doorstep. Teetering somewhat in order not to actually step on it, he stooped down and picked it up. There was no ribbon this time, so the tag reading ‘To James Hathaway, music-lover, on the third day of Christmas’ had been attached with tape.

So whoever was doing this knew where he lived. He ought to be unnerved by that, he knew. At the very least he ought to inform Lewis or Innocent – this could be the work of someone seeking revenge or something similarly ominous. He also knew that he wasn’t going to do so. The first two presents had been sitting on his desk, no postage indications on it and to make it that far into the precinct you had to be a copper. Also, he thought with a wry twist to his lips, every time he had got into trouble over the years, be it with a suspect or otherwise, his inspector would be there to pick up the pieces of DS James Hathaway, clever-clogs Cambridge graduate and all-around dry-wit pillock. Sometimes he even suspected himself to put himself up for it just to feel the reassurance that Lewis _would_ be there for him.

The gift was left on his kitchen table while he went about shopping. The curiosity of what was inside the box – he wasn’t a nosy copper for nothing –and who the sender could possibly be occupied him a little too much during his trip; he almost walked into the electric sliding doors because he hadn’t noticed they were faulty and unresponsive due to the cold.

Reassuring the array of women who’d apparently seen his mishap – and at times like that he really was pleased with his default deadpan face – he hurried home and steadfastly ignored anything that wasn’t his guitar for the next couple of hours.

Around lunch time he wandered back into the kitchen, where the present sat and waited. He eyed it and then resolutely tried to ignore it. Curiosity – or being nosy as his governor put it – won out in the end. What emerged from the tasteful wrapping paper was a CD box set with the title ‘Time of the Templars’ written on it in swooping, white letters above a red Maltese cross. He turned it round and found it made up of three CDs, one of which said “Music of the Church”. He felt his lips twist again, though he wasn’t sure if it was in a smile or a grimace.

Nevertheless he tried putting it on and found that while not exactly to his taste, all three CDs were definitely listenable. It was definitely someone who knew him. Knew him enough, anyway, to know about his passion for music and his...attachment to the church. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was a start. He smiled in that smug way that frustrated his inspector to no end while at the same time making him smile. Now he had something to go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters keep getting longer....hmm....oh, well, if it's not bad, then that's fine.  
> The CD box set mentioned does exist - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Time-Templars-Various-Composers/dp/B000Z1LO5O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1355151885&sr=8-1. I knew I wanted something music-related for this gift and settled on that one, which I own myself. A little corny, but there you go.


	4. On the fourth...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hathaway is still at a loss and considers getting his inspector to help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very much my own, unbeta'ed mess

By the time the fourth present sat on his desk the following Monday, Hathaway was getting utterly and truly annoyed. He had thought it might have been someone in his band and had spent his Sunday investigating that angle, but that had run into the same trouble as the criminal idea; how would they get into the precinct? On top of that he honestly couldn’t imagine any of his band mates being willing to go through with all that for his sake and especially not as a prank.

He’d briefly considered telling Lewis about it, but had in the end decided against it. For one thing, the older man would either take it the wrong way and be all concerned for the safety of his sergeant – which was heart-warming, he had to admit, and, given his history, would not be out of the blue – or he’d shrug and tell James just to be pleased someone was willing to spend money on him. Then there was the fact that Hathaway had more or less implied it was none of the other man’s business at the first gift, so to give up and tell him now...well, pride might be a sin, but the fact of the matter was that he had it and had it in spades, to boot.

But there was something to be said for the money aspect. Even if this was some kind of prank, who would go to so much trouble finding something that was not only not cheap in any way, but also fitted so well as presents for _him_? No one ever cared enough about the lofty, smug, impassive streak of sergeant enough to hang around for long, except Lewis, let alone give him anything. Maybe the one who was sending the presents was his governor?

No, that was wishful thinking and if his years in the force, not to mention most everything else that had happened in his life, had taught him anything, anything at all, it was that wishful thinking was only that and _stayed_ only that.

So after putting the tag with ‘To DS James Hathaway, great detective in the making’ in his drawer – and why was he saving those things, anyway? – and unwrapping what turned out to be a tie and a set of gloves, matching what he’d previously gotten, he went off to see if there was any Secret Santa thing going on he’d not been informed of. When that was a negative, he gave it up for the day and tried to school his features back into something both he and Lewis could live with for the day of paperwork that lay ahead. The tedium of doing paperwork didn’t stop him ogling his superior’s backside, but nobody was perfect, now were they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to short and not so much fluff, but the next one will be longer. Comments are welcomed and thrived on, good and bad


	5. Five gold rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five gold rings might have been a better gift, all things considered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'ed, so silliness and mistakes are my own

The fifth gift he almost ripped open, as if it was a scab to pull off and get it over with. He still made sure to come in early enough for him The thing inside turned out to be the Lord of the Rings trilogy movie box, though not the extended versions, thankfully, and the blonde couldn’t help staring. This was definitely not picked out for him, as he had no interest in such movies. The books he thought he must have read at some point, but why would someone who obviously knew a lot about him miss the fact that he really wasn’t one for popular culture?

He heard someone – it sounded like the small brown-haired woman who’d just got promoted to DC – humming on their way to the coffee machine and then the penny dropped. The song. Of course. The blasted song and its fifth verse –five gold rings, which was apparently copyrighted, too. Only you did not give male members of the human race rings and especially not gold rings, apart from the whole expense-issue. Silver was acceptable, but gold you only wore if you were –what was the PC term? Oh, never mind – batting for the other team. Which he wasn’t – he could perhaps be called Lewis-sexual, but that was it and hardly the same thing at all, was it?

Speak of the devil, there Lewis was. He looked tired, but pleased and Hathaway once again had to wonder if the older man was somehow in on this. Perhaps together with Innocent, who could be very maternally protective for a Chief Super. But no, that made no sense – why on earth would Lewis do this for him? They were workmates, colleagues and friends on a very odd level of keeping out of each other’s business where he knew most friends would stick their nose in. They shared meals and went to the pub and ‘had a laugh’ as the inspector would put it, but it was nothing to warrant this kind of behaviour. They most certainly hadn’t agreed on giving each other presents and definitely not so many. Had they? No, he would have picked up on that, most definitely, and there was no Secret Santa thing going on at the station. He’d checked.

“Away again in your own world, sergeant? You’d best sell us a ticket for admittance one of these days. Must be fascinating with all the time you spend in there.”

_Oh, if only you knew, sir_ , James thought with a wry inward smile while his gut did a most unpleasant churn. _But all in all, it’s probably for the best that you don’t. Wonder if would shock or disgust you or you’d take it all in stride, expecting to ride it out. A youthful phase. Oh, if only_.

“Not sure you could afford the admittance fee, sir,” Hathaway managed to say with one of those not-quite-smiles he was so very good at. “But speaking of mental escape,” he added, wondering whether the older man would take the bait, “someone dropped this on my desk this morning.”

“Some movie-trade thing you’re keeping with someone? Or should I be worried this might be booby-trapped?”

“I hadn’t thought of that – good thing you’re the inspector, eh, sir? But I doubt that it would be possible to booby-trap something with the discs still in the cases. Anyway, I was thinking you might like to come over and share the ‘experience’” – here the blond did his by now almost famous finger quotes – “with me? I’m told it’s unmissable.”

“Well, it’s certainly not half-bad, though the small people and the rather dainty people attempting to be elves isn’t really my thing. More of a grounded-in-reality man, meself.” Lewis stood looking thoughtful for a moment and then that face-lightening smile that sent the sergeant’s heart fluttering adorned his face.”How about we say half seven Friday night? I’ll bring the takeaway, you can find us some decent drink – as long as ain’t one of them nobby wines you’ve got stashed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” the taller man drawled, hiding a pleased grin. “I am looking forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer and I apologize for the silliness of it - I just could not stop myself from making some sort of reference to the song.  
> I *might* not be able to get out the next chapter by tomorrow, it depends on whether RL and my muse permits it or not. I'll try my best, but just a heads-up.


	6. With a little help...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James ropes in some help in order to find the sender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay - I got it done today, after all. :) Not beta'ed, britpicked or anything. Only somewhat proof-read by me, so as always, my mistakes

Wednesday December 10th dawned and greeted Oxford with the results of a night time snowstorm. Dr. Laura Hobson found that she was not alone in her lab as she had expected to be on a morning like this. On one empty slab sat a long-limbed detective sergeant, packed in his long woollen coat and grabbing something very tightly in his hands.

“Ah, James! What a nice surprise – I’m afraid I haven’t got any bodies for you today. Perhaps you’ll settle for a cup of tea?”

“A nicer substitute I don’t think I’ll ever get,” Hathaway smiled vaguely and accepted the cup with one hand, while the other still held the thing he’d brought in with him.

Laura looked at him for some time over the rim of her own cup, taking in the unconscious lost puppy look he had at times, then she sighed and nudged him. “Move over, Hathaway. If we’re gonna have a heart-to-heart, I intend to at least be sitting down.”

The sergeant’s mouth twisted as if he was about to deny her assumption as to why he was there so early, without his inspector. Then she grinned and nudged him again. “Don’t even try to deny it, James. Women’s intuition and all that. What is it? Has the good inspector finally declared his undying love?”

Judging from the choked sound the man made, she must have hit close to home, and she started to smile once more. Then he looked at her and her heart sank. “He hasn’t, then?”

“He doesn’t know,” Hathaway said in a somewhat hollow voice. “It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t, really. But that does not mean it doesn’t hurt. Though why I came,” he seemed to try to mentally shake himself, “is for your help. And no, it’s not for some midnight rendezvous or romantic seduction. “

Laura couldn’t help her slight sniff. “You might _need_ some seduction, the two of you. Never met- oh, never _mind_. What can I do you for, then, James?”

“These keep arriving at my desk and I don’t know the sender. They’ve got tags stating my name and the ‘day of Christmas’,” he snorted slightly, “and they’re nice gifts. Gifts with thoughts behind them. Now, I know it’s not you and it’s neither Lewis nor Innocent. I’ve checked with my band mates and it’s not any of them, but I don’t know many other people and it’d be an expensive prank - and I don’t know who it could be from! It’s frustrating.” He stopped, aware that he was rambling and bit his lip. “

"Well, it’s certainly ruffled someone’s feathers,” the doctor said softly. "So the scarf and muffs...?” James nodded.”I see. Hm, well, yes, definitely not a prank, then. Nobody spends that kind of money on a prank, as you said. You are positive it’s not Lewis?” James nodded, still biting his lip.

“Wishful thinking doesn’t make it real, does it?” His smile was small and wistful.

“Good point. I don’t know what you expect me to do, though? You’re the detective.”

“Can’t you...run some tests on the wrapping paper? I know it’s store-wrapped, but whoever is giving me these must leave some prints. Something, at least.”

Laura knew she shouldn’t; Innocent would have her head on the block, never mind James’, if she found out, but looking at the sergeant’s face – that lost puppy look really was too much – the doctor also knew she’d do it. The poor man had enough troubles as it was. As for Innocent – well, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

“Alright then. But first, let’s see what you got today, shall we?” Together they made quick work of the wrapping, being careful not to put any more prints on it.

"Well, well, well. James, I do have to say that whoever it is sending these, they certainly know you.”

James could only nod, looking down at the set of brand new Gibson guitar strings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not at all sure I'm not getting them horribly wrong, so do let me know if that's the case - but nice and constructive, please? Comments are as always very much loved and appreciated.


	7. Dinner and a movie...sorta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK you to all who've left kudos and comments, you guys really are awesome.  
> Sorry for not getting a chapter out yesterday. I've got a fever and spent most of the day sleeping. This might also explain why the chapter is what it is. Unbetae'd, so all fever-fumbled mess in there is all mine

The evening of Friday the 12th rolled around, cold and clear. James’ breath came out in clouds, mingling with the cigarette smoke as he strode back towards his house. In his pocket, nestled right beside his cigarette packet, was the gift of the day. He had been about to open it when Lewis had appeared to announce that Innocent wanted to see them, but not to worry, they were not in any trouble. Probably.

As it turned out, there had been a bollocking, but mostly because they had both put themselves down for being on duty both on Christmas and New Year’s. She would not hear of it – not again. New Year’s was fine, but they were both off duty on Christmas, no argument. To ease her overwrought budget – they tended to drag up expensive murders when they were on duty – and learn to be sociable, at least for the holidays, as she put it, even if they were to spend it together for it to happen.

The sergeant’s stomach had twisted a little at that and he wished again it could have come true, but thankfully both of his superiors had merely taken his small grimace to be a normal Hathaway non-reaction.

The rest of the day had passed somewhat uneventfully and now there he was, walking home after having picked up something suitably drinkable for takeaway and a marathon of fantasy trilogy to end them all. He smiled slightly as he walked – hopefully a couple of bottles of red wine and a bottle of Tullamore Dew would do the trick of making the movies bearable.

He fingered the small box with the hand not holding the bag with bottles. More than once throughout the day he’d considered opening it, but Lewis had been there every single time he tried and for some reason he really did not want the older man to see it. Not that he was embarrassed. Definitely not.

But the man would arrive in less than an hour and so time for opening the present in peace was running out. When he was back home and preparing for the takeaway dinner, he pulled it out and unwrapped it. Inside the box he found a set of small bottles, nestled carefully in bubble wrap and silk paper. He frowned as he looked at them; they were samples of different types of rather expensive Scottish malt whiskeys.

Again, not a cheap present, even if they were only just four inch tall samples. Why would anybody do this for him? He had no family to do it, he wasn’t courting anyone and no friend in the world would spend so much money, not to mention so much thought on gifts. Even if they did, why be anonymous? Why go to so much trouble to ensure that he wouldn’t find out? Why him? Why?

Lost in thought, he gave a start when the doorbell rang.

“Hm, are you sure you want me to come in, Hathaway? That frown could turn away sin itself.”

The furrows in the sergeant’s brow vanished and a smirk twisted his lip. “Mission accomplished, then, sir. But do come in – I see you bring the promised barter of food, greasy and lovely. I have, as promised, bought low-brow alcoholic beverages.”

“What do you call that, then?”

Hathaway hadn’t realized he was still holding one of the bottles. “Oh, this – a promotional thing they had in the liquor store. Probably hoping I’ll eventually buy a large one.”

Lewis stared at him for a moment with the look he normally reserved for suspects, the ‘if you’re going to lie to me, please do at least cook up a plausible one’. Then he shrugged, smiled in that jovial way of his and nudged his way inside, their bodies suddenly uncomfortably close for James’ liking.

The inspector let himself almost fall into the sofa after having put the first DVD on, leaving the younger man to serve up the Thai food. It took longer than it should, though, for the blonde kept wondering why Lewis thought he had lied? He had lied, that was true, but Lewis normally either didn’t pick up on his lies or he just let them slip completely. Why call him out, though subtly, on this one in particular? Could it-

The brunette shouted to get his arse in with the food, as Lewis was starving, so Hathaway sighed and picked up the plates. No use speculating on such manners when the man was here. That would just be torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not very long and again, sorry if it makes no sense. I'll hopefully be over the fever tomorrow so I can have a somewhat decent 8th chapter up. Thanks all for reading - and comments are as always cherished (and I promise to get back to you all when I'm better, I'm writing blind atm)


	8. Getting closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is edging closer to an answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you ALL for the absolutely lovely comments, they are the best.  
> Oh, gods, I've totally messed up the dates in this fic, but I only just noticed. Gods...I'll go back and fix it once it's all done, for now, just bear with me.  
> I only just managed to finish this chapter, so apologies if there's more mistakes than usual - unbeta'ed as always

Hathaway stretched and yawned. After having stared incomprehensibly at his watch for a bit he finally deduced that was mid-morning. The chill coming from the window told him it was still too bloody cold by half to be up and about.

Nevertheless, he rose and padded softly into the kitchen. A proper breakfast and a jog would be a good way to get his Sunday started. First, though, he knew there was something he had to do. The present of the day was gonna be on his front doorstep. He just knew it. If he was being honest with himself, he was actually starting to look forward to the presents and while the whole ‘12 days of Christmas’ was somewhat...well, stupidly goofy, it was kind of nice to have such personal gifts.

He was running out of possibilities of who it could be, but still he was reluctant to believe it really could be who he wanted it to be. After all, Lewis was the _prototype_ of ‘a good man’; a conscientious inspector, a caring father, a loving husband, even now, a loyal friend and always good for a laugh. So dependable and strong and so very, very straight. Even if he did swing both ways, why would he look at his gangly ‘clever-clogs’ of a sergeant, who’d gone out of his way to be vague about his sexual preferences?

But who else knew him? Who else could it be? He padded, still barefoot, to his front door and looked outside. There was nothing sitting on his front doorstep, if you didn’t count the morning’s paper.

Feeling a little disappointed and cursing his heart at the same time, he bent to collect the paper. As he did so, he caught something out of the corner of his eye; the flap of his letterbox was standing at an angle because something had been carefully wedged down the box, but couldn’t quite fit in the small space.

Another smile – he seemed to be smiling a lot more since this whole gift-thing had begun, didn’t he? – wormed its way across his lips as he straightened and went to relieve his poor letterbox of its load. There was no stamp or any other indication it had been posted, but there had been frost during the night, so of course the package would not be sitting on his doorstep. He couldn’t help fingering the tag saying ‘To James Hathaway, too clever by half on the 8th day of Christmas’ as he carried it and the paper inside, the smile broadening.

This time it was easy for him to identify the content inside the wrapping paper. Even with the frost making it stiffer, the very peculiar hollow yet soft thunk-sound it made when prodded gave it away as a book. A paperback, though.

Once the paper was off, it revealed Voltaire’s ‘Letters concerning the English Nation: Oxford World’s Classics’.

_Oh, Robbie._

The grin his smile had bloomed into persisted for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little on the short side, but *finally* he's getting a clue, hm? XD Again, if it seems dumb, it's because I've speedwritten after my fever died down to get this down. As always, comments are loved and treasured and constructive criticism is much appreciated.


	9. And the sender is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura has some good news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another bout of fever had me under yesterday, so you get a little more today as an apology. Still, no betas, britpickers or anything, so mistakes and poor writing is all my own

When he went to work the following day, he had to fight to keep a smile off his face, but thankfully no one really took much notice. There were some whispering and puzzled glances when he offered to help put up the decorations for the upcoming Christmas do Innocent was organizing. It was nothing big, she claimed, just a little get-together to wish everyone a lovely holiday season on December 23rd.

Neither Hathaway nor Lewis had any intention of attending, much to the chagrin of their Chief Super – at the bollocking she’d given them the previous week she’d also tried to convince them how much they were needed there and that it would be good for them, too.

The sergeant inwardly chuckled at the memory of his inspector telling their boss that all the festivities could go hang as far as he was concerned. Luckily for them both Innocent was too used to their ‘antics’ as she put it by this point and they’d gotten off with the promise of going the following year and to actually take the bloody leave.

They handled a suspicious death in the afternoon; an elderly woman found at the foot of her stairs, neck broken. It did not take them long to establish that it had been the daughter-in-law who’d had one too many comments on how to do a proper Christmas. She’d gone over to give her ‘a piece of her mind’, as the sobbing woman put it, and in the resulting row she’d pushed her mother-in-law and she’d fallen down the stairs.

Lewis had mumbled something about how it wasn’t all bad not to have a family to spend the holidays with and then he’d smiled wistfully. James had stuck with no comments apart from a tight smile which even he couldn’t decide was for something positive or negative.

The day after, the blonde picked up the present sitting at his desk – he really did wonder how the hell Lewis managed to get it there without him noticing, especially given that he was the first one at work every morning – he strode down into the labs.

Laura had winked at him the day before at the crime scene and made that phone hand gesture, which had made the sergeant smile and Lewis send them both very odd glances. He’d even done a gesture himself, pointing from the doctor to his bagman, then furrowed his brow. In turn, Hathaway had only smiled a bit more cryptically, an expression that never failed to make the brunette sigh in fond mock-frustration.

The text Laura sent as an answer to James’ – he didn’t want the inspector catching on to what was going on – had informed him that he was to come down to the lab the following morning and for goodness’ sake to bring the present for the day.

So there he was, shifting his weight from foot to foot and hunching his shoulders even more than usual in an unconscious move of self-protection as he waited for her.

“Arh, James! My favourite dishy sergeant!” came a cheerful voice from down the hall.

Said sergeant lifted an eyebrow at that; she usually wasn’t so direct about her compliments, at least not to a person’s face. Must be a really good mood she was in.

When she reached him, she craned her neck to stare up at him and then, smiling broadly, handed him the file she’d been holding. Instead of taking it, though, he just looked at her.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Blooming detectives and their roundabout ways.” The jab was lessened somewhat by the smile still adorning her face. The blonde merely smiled slightly in return.

“I found a total of 4 different sets of prints. One came back unidentified, two are from people standing in this room and the fourth...”

There was a pause. “You expect me to do a drum-roll?”

“Oh, no. Just trying to drag out the suspense a bit. You know, practice my detective skills.”

“You mean being a royal pain in the arse?”

“Exactly. You and your inspector – who is the owner of the fourth set of prints – have got it down so well I thought I’d...dabble a bit.”

They looked at each for a moment, both wearing mischievous grins until Laura nudged Hathaway lightly in the ribs. “You’ve still got a present to open, though, haven’t you? Come on, open it up.”

“Curiosity might not only kill the cat,” James commented dryly even as he undid the tape on the wrapping.

“Perhaps not, but then curiosity is not the one cutting up dead people for a living. Oh, now that is nice – didn’t know he thought of such things.”

“Strictly a soap-only man, our old Tyneside lad,” the sergeant replied, mocking Lewis’ accent just a bit, though in kindness. “But that does settle it, doesn’t it? I don’t come close enough to anyone else for long enough that they’d notice the brand of cologne I use.”

At that he felt another friendly nudge.” Now, am I supposed to act all hurt and sniffy that _I_ actually _do_ know your scent-water preferences?”

Lovely, wonderful Laura. Hathaway grinned. “Oh, absolutely.” “Then I definitely won’t. But you – you knew before I told you. Spill.”

“Sunday’s gift. A Voltaire book, in the Oxford World’s Classics range. Anyone else would have given me Aquinas or something similar.”

“Arh, of course. Silly me. So now that you know, what are you going to do? Confront him?” Laura couldn’t help the answering smile to Hathaway’s smirk.

“Oh, no,” he replied. “Not yet. We still have 3 more presents to go, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> James is smiling a lot in this, I've noticed - oh, well, guess I would be too. This was actually a lot of fun to write, especially Laura. Thank you to those who enjoyed how I'd written her last time, hope she's up to par this time, too. Comments are as always appreciated, loved and cherished as is constructive criticism and help.


	10. On the tenth day...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James works up the courage to ask Lewis about...Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not long, but it's out today and that's gotta count for something. It's without betas, so as always my own mistakes. Sorry for dumb chapter-title, btw.

“You know, sir, there _are_ easier ways.”

“Shut up, Hathaway, and pass me that.” The voice was rather muffled given that Lewis had opted for putting the marker he had been using between his lips. His hands were full of ribbon, yet one was stretched out in an attempt to reach the scissors. After assessing that the older man would probably put out his back again if he kept it up, James gave in and handed him the offending article.

“Why, exactly, are you doing this?” The blonde tried to keep his tone as calm and dry as possible, but wasn’t entirely sure he was succeeding. He could clearly see now why his own presents had all been wrapped by the experts at the stores.

The inspector had finally opted to spit the marker out. “Because I bought this a long time ago and they didn’t offer to wrap it for me. Then I forgot to take it home and now you’re going to keep an eye so Laura doesn’t see this.”

Despite himself, the blonde felt a light twist in his heart at this. “So you two are still a possible item, then? Seeing as you are buying her a gift.” Oh, if he would only learn to keep his big mouth shut.

Lewis glared at him. “I thought we’d agreed to keep our noses out of each other’s love lives, sergeant.”

“Yes, of course, sir, I didn’t-“

“That said,” the older man continued, the glare softening to an overbearing, almost fond, look, “I suppose I can tell you, as this is a gift for a friend who’s put up with a lot of bull from us both. Yes, you too, don’t stare at me like that, so I’m putting both our names down and you can pay your half someday. In pints, preferably.”

James’ heart suddenly thudded painfully in his chest, radiating warmth throughout his body with every thud. He really shouldn’t ask this, but… “Perhaps, instead, you’d come over for Christmas, sir? I know you’re going up to see Lyn for Christmas Day, but we could have lunch on Christmas Eve. Or something. If you don’t mind.” There; he’d offered it and now Lewis would wave him off as kindly so as not to cause any grief.

“Hathaway, sometimes you take your unassuming shadow-role a bit too seriously, lad. How you mix that with a know-it-all attitude I’ll never know.”

The younger man kept silent, heart in his throat, staring at nothing in his best poker face-posture.

“Silly sod. Of course I’d love to come over for Christmas – and our Lyn is trying to make her future in-laws putty in her hands this Christmas, so I don’t really fancy going up there. Just as long as you don’t drag me to Mass, either.”

“I’ll go to Midnight Mass when you’re snoring on the couch after too much mulled wine, sir.”

“Cheeky bastard. Now bugger off and find us some work, sergeant, before I ruin Laura’s present by chucking it your way.”

The rest of the day went with paperwork instead, though neither really seemed to mind much. It beat being out in the bitter cold asking questions through chattering teeth, after all. By the end of the day Hathaway realized he still hadn’t picked up his present from his desk. He stuffed it in his coat pocket, nodded at the inspector still bent over the task of making a proper bow for Laura’s present, lined brow furrowed in concentration, and went home.

Only when he got in his car did he dare open it. It occurred to him that it must have looked odd to the older man that he had a present sitting there without opening it; but then again, he’d been dismissing the gifts the inspector had ‘noticed’. Lewis had also made a point as to keep his identity secret, even though he must have known James would work it out sooner or later. When the whole thing was revealed, there would be an awful lot of questions, that was for certain.

What he pulled out of the box was a ticket for a music festival he’d mentioned in passing once. He smiled softly. There would be questions, most definitely, but first he’d have to thank Lewis for all of this. Perhaps, if the man was drunk enough, he could even attempt a kiss. Perhaps - it was not only the season of giving, but the season of hope as well, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I had trouble with Lewis today, which is odd, as I can always *hear* him clearly in my head Oh, well, constructive criticism and comments are as always loved. And no, I'm not gonna have it all revealed yet. We've still got at least 2 more presents to go and well...there will be time for the boys to have fun. Don't worry.


	11. But why do you do this, if not for me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James reasons and doesn't get anywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods, this is late and I only just finished it, so if there's more mistakes than usual I apologize. No betas or britpickers and what I know of British Christmas is gleaned from TV, so...you have been warned.

The morning of December 22nd rolled around and it found DS James Hathaway deep in thought, fingers steepled in front of his face so that his nose rested on his index fingers while his thumbs supported his chin. The gift of the day sat beside him, a set of cufflinks, opened but not taken out.

What had him thinking so deeply was how to bring up the whole present-thing with Lewis and when it was wise to do so, if it was wise at all. Was it even something he should pin his hopes on? For all he knew, it could be Robbie just wanting him to have something, so that he knew someone cared about him. It could be – he did have a rather strong fatherly side after all. The anonymity could be so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed about it. That would be like Robert Lewis, unassuming and caring.

If that was the case, confessing to any kind of romantic feelings would send him right down the proverbial creek with not only no paddle, but a great big hole in the boat. He would not see anything disrupt the...camaraderie they’d built up over the years and disclosing that you had romantic feelings for your male, older, straight governor and he didn’t reciprocate...well, he had kept his mouth shut for so long for a reason.

But then, why was it only James who’d gotten presents? Shouldn’t Laura, for instance, have gotten the same amount of gifts instead of just the one? Come to that, why would the inspector put both their names on her present? It was kind of him to do so, but did he realize how that would look? Especially to Laura, who was bright even on a cloudy day, not to mention James himself? If he meant nothing more than friendship, he was taking it a bit far, wasn’t he? And if he meant more, why did he choose to go about it like this?

Thoughts like those had been running around in circles in his head over and over for the past couple of days without any hope of being resolved. That, James, mused wryly with a self-deprecating twist, was very typical of his mind and he sometimes wished he really just could switch it off.

“Penny for your thoughts, Jim.”

The sergeant looked up at a kind, lined faced with inquisitive, fond blue eyes and had to blink a few times. “Sir?”

“You were miles away – I’ve been calling your name at least five times, lad. You close to solving the Enigma code, then?”

Actually, the Enigma machines were, mostly, a thing of the Second World War and the mathematicians at Bletchley Park-“

Lewis sighed. “Why do I bother? Must have a masochistic streak – or I’m used to it from Morse. Same thing, really. Anyway, what has your knickers in a twist? I seem to see that frown more and more. Got a girlfriend you’re worrying about what to give for Christmas? Oh, right, sorry – none of my business.”

James smirked at that.“No, it isn’t, sir, but one good turn does deserve another – no, no girlfriend. I don’t think you’d be up for a threesome on Christmas Eve, either. Your back might put out again and then Innocent will be all over my back.”

A grimace adorned the older man's face for a moment. “Perish the thought. Talking of Christmas – what should I bring? Mind you, I’m not really up for cooking much.

” Actually, when I brought Laura our present” – and Hathaway’s heart fluttered at the light colouring staining the brunette’s cheeks – “she asked whether I wanted to come over for Christmas at her place. I told her I’d promised to take of you, sir, and after tutting somewhat at me, she promised to come round with some food for us. The least she could do, she said.” When Lewis frowned at the possibility of his sergeant spending Christmas with the petite woman, James couldn’t help his heart’s leap of joy.

“That was...kind of her. What is she up to?”

“Oh, I’m sure I couldn’t possibly guess, sir. But it does mean we get proper food and we don’t have to cook. So much more time for...other things.”

“Careful, Jim. You might get what you wish for.”

“Is that a fact, sir? Well, it’s the season of hope. So I’m told.”

“That it is, lad.” The voice was a mix of wry, joking, sad and hopeful. “That it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do Brits use "up shit creek"? I don't know, but it seemed to fit.  
> Not entirely how I imagined it would turn out, but my muse took it this way. Sorry for it being a little angsty (but that, I find, is Hathaway left unattended) and none too long and not resolving that much. The next, probably the last, chapter will be, but that will be a day or two more in the making, just so I can tie it up somewhat nicely. Thanks to all who's stuck with it so far and for the comments - all of which are loved and appreciated.


	12. All I want for Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the twelfth gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! So sorry for the wait (social obligations beckoned) for this chapter, but to make up for it it's over 3 times as long as any other chapter you've gotten. Hope that helps and that it's been worth the wait. Thank you for all the absolutely wonderful comments, such a joy.  
> Still no beta, britpicker or anything, so mistakes and lack of tie-ups are mine.

It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve. All over Oxford people were getting ready for the evening and the upcoming festivities the following day. There had been a light snowfall during the night, much to the delight of the children and the chagrin of the adults, and now the city was caked in what looked alternately like a layer of frosting and a case of coffee meringue.

The snow made traffic in the city even more of a hazard than usual, though, as people struggled with the slippery streets. This was why James glad that Lewis had only the relatively short drive from his own apartment to Hathaway’s that day and that he would not have to drive up to visit Lyn. If he was being honest, though, he was rather hoping that the snow would be a solid brick in his wall of arguments for getting the inspector to stay ‘til Christmas Day, should they be needed.

Laura had already been round to deliver the promised food earlier in the day. She’d been almost bent in half under the weight of the bags in her hands, but she’d smiled as she walked in and dumped them. A ten minute instruction on how best to prepare the food and when to do it followed and the sergeant willed himself to just listen without any facial comments. It was Christmas, after all, and she was only trying to be helpful. But it did make him a little grateful that it was the male inspector he’d fallen for.

His thoughts derailed and stopped when he felt arms go round his middle and hug him tightly. When he looked down, he found the petite woman grinning hugely at him.

"I am so glad it’s worked out for you, James.”

He wondered about gently prying her off, but decided to tentatively hug her back instead. For a moment, then he disentangled himself and took a step backwards. “It hasn’t worked out yet, though, has it? It could all just be some well-meaning attempt to show me he’s my friend.”

“Did they make you this gloomy and self-deprecating or is it something you’ve cultivated over the years? I honestly don’t know _any_ man who’d go out of his way to do all of that just for a friend. Not even a friend with benefits.” She winked at him.

Once again he was glad for his ability to stone-face; otherwise he’d probably have been blushing like mad. Instead he ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing ever turns out the way I plan or hope for. It’s not being gloomy when it’s a fact. So until I actually have him in my arms, I won’t hang my hopes on it. But we will have a nice Christmas; I’ll make sure of that.”

The doctor stepped a bit further away from him and gave him an appraising look. Then she grinned widely and his stomach dropped ever so slightly. “Well, then, Mr. Hathaway, we’d best make sure you get to have him in your arms by the end of the evening, won’t we?”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was the reason James was standing in the kitchen, heating the mulled wine, in the most form-fitting pair of jeans he never even knew he owned, a deep purple shirt he’d long ago deemed too small and just hadn’t gotten around to chucking out and a pair of newly polished brown shoes.

He’d tried to protest that the outfit he had already been wearing when Dr. Hobson had arrived had been more than adequate, but she’d only huffed at him and pointed out that a suit that was used for work just would not do to enamour inspectors, although she knew he’d already done that. She’d winked at him again at that.

When he’d been all smartened up to her apparent satisfaction – she’d ditched the tie he’d suggested too, even though he’d pointed out it was one of the presents, and had instead opted for leaving the first couple of buttons undone – she had leant up to place a kiss on his cheek.

“There, James. Now you do look dishy as all hell – well, more than usual – and if he doesn’t man up and sweep you off your feet – figuratively speaking, of course – tonight, I’m gonna send him into the New Year prematurely. I’d best dash now or I won’t be home on time. “

“Thank you, Laura,” he’d said, meaning it wholeheartedly and pouring as much warmth and appreciation into his voice as he possibly could.

“Oh, go on with you. It’s the least I could do – but I expect an update in the morning, mind. Now, I put both of your gifts under your tree already, hope you don’t mind, and the pudding I’ve already put in the fridge and-“

“Go _home,_ Dr. Hobson,” James had interrupted, grinning and pushing her towards the door. When she had looked about to say something else, he’d gently pushed her onto the doorstep, kissed her lightly and shut the door.

Not a minute later his phone had beeped. ‘Cheeky, ungrateful bastard. Have a wonderful Christmas, James. XXX Laura ’ the text had read.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He heard the shuffle against the door before the bell rang. Smiling slightly, he went to open the door and had to take a step back as he was practically assaulted.

“Oh, sorry, Hathaway. Thought I had them under control, but the package in the middle must have been dislodged when I rang the doorbell. Lend me a hand, there’s a good lad.”

“I thought condescension was banned on Christmas,” the blonde remarked as he nevertheless lightened the load of bags and boxes Lewis had managed to cram his arms full off.

“If that was the case, lad, you would be in hot water,” the inspector huffed good-naturedly while he got himself manoeuvred into the small hall, arms still loaded. “I hope you’ve got some beer stashed somewhere, ‘cause I’m parched.” The boxes and bags were dumped as soon as he got through the door.

“Actually, sir, I thought we could do with some mulled wine. Go take your coat off and sit down in the living room; I’ll bring in our cups.”

“Yeah, alright. But let’s lose the ‘sir’ just this once, shall we, Hathaway?”

“Only if we acknowledge our given names, _sir_.” Again, the sergeant couldn’t keep the slight smirk out of his voice. He got a grunt in the affirmative and went back to the kitchen to prepare.

When he came into the living room, he had to stop and just stare for a moment. His very small Christmas tree was almost off the ground due to the amount of presents stuffed under it. Candles on his coffee table had been lit and a very nicely dressed Robert Lewis sat reclining in the sofa, eyes halfway closed and nose and cheeks slightly red from the change in temperature he’d just endured.

Hathaway glanced out of the corner of his eye; no, there wasn’t any snow falling. Thank goodness for that – if there had been, he’d have known it was a dream or something similarly cheesy.

“Glad to see you’ve smartened yourself up a bit, si- Robbie,” he commented with an appreciative look as he sat down carefully beside the other man. New jeans, a forest green, snugly _fitting_ pullover and a dark shirt underneath.

The brunette smiled at that and his eyes opened fully, focusing on the taller man sitting next to him. Then he blinked. Blinked again. Stared. Then shook his head slightly, grabbed his own mug and finally met James’ eyes. “Nothing compared to you, eh, lad? You sure you’ve not got some pretty, young thing coming over?”

_Only a pretty, older thing and he’s already sitting here_. “Why would I need that, sir? I have you, after all.” There, could be chucked up to their usual banter if so wished or could be taken as the slight flirt it was.

“You know, James, if _I’m_ the success criteria of a nice Christmas Eve for you, we really need to get you out more.”

“Go out plenty, but I still prefer being here, at home, with you for Christmas. You’ve at least got some brain.”

“I could swear there was a compliment in there, somewhere. Tell me again why I put up with you?” Lewis stretched and took a sip from his seasonal beverage. “Apart from your ability to do some nice mulled wine, of course.”

“Must be my dashing good looks, sir.”

The inspector let out a noise somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “Oh, aye. Must be. Those jeans certainly don’t leave much to the imagination. I thought I told you not to use the ‘sir’, by the way. That means one less present you get to open tonight, sergeant.”

James stopped, his mug halfway to his lips as several responses vied for utterance. At last he settled on; “We open presents tonight?”

“Not all, just one or two. Tradition is still somewhat king at Christmas, after all. But there’s no children, so why not?”

“I see. Perhaps, while we’re on the subject, you’ll explain to me why there are so many gifts? I only bought one for you and then there’s Laura’s...”

“Oh, she’s been around already, has she?” Again, a frown marred the older man’s face at the mention of Laura. Interesting. “Well, lad, you didn’t think our Lyn would let you off with just one or two presents for Christmas when she found out you were taking care of me tonight?” he huffed, grinning. “Beside herself with joy, she was. So happy her old man found someone to take care of him, she said.” The flush adorning the older man’s cheeks were no longer only temperature and alcohol related.

“Not the only Lewis with a brain, then. Remind me to thank her. Do we wait until Midnight before opening, though?”

“What’s the point in opening on Christmas Eve, then? And besides, you don’t know what she’s gotten you yet.”

_Oh, she’s already given me what I want, sir, by allowing me to have you here_. Hathaway drained his mug, his face impassive. “Oh, I think I do. One present now, then, and one after dinner?”

“James, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say that was a sparkle in your eye and an eager grin on your face.”

“Must be a trick of the light, s-Robbie. Nice evasion tactic, but ultimately doomed.”

“For that, James, you can top up me mug. Seems to have gone empty, this.”

“At your service, as always.”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the blonde came back with one mug of mulled wine – his own he’d left in the kitchen on purpose – he made sure to bend over slightly more than necessary as he put the cup down so that the denim stretched over his bum even tighter. Then he straightened up, caught the still-evident blush on his inspector’s cheeks and grinned to himself. Well, perhaps there were indeed some romantic connotations to those presents after all.

His suspicions were further confirmed when he sat down in front of the tree, ignoring the slight snicker coming from the direction of the couch, and spotted a somewhat familiar present sitting innocently between all the others he most certainly hadn’t been expecting. The size wasn’t the same, never had been, but the sheer _anonymity_ of it sent all the little detection-sensors in his brain flaring.

Carefully he picked it up, wondering at the lightness of it. It said ‘To James Hathaway, cared for always, on the 12th day of Christmas’ and he stared at it, his eyes gone shiny with wetness.

“What have you got there, lad?” The voice almost made Hathaway jump. He looked up to find Lewis leaning over him, trying to see what his sergeant had picked up.

“It’s been you, hasn’t it?” James was surprised to hear his own voice and how hoarse it sounded. He hadn’t thought it would affect him that much, seeing the last present there; another confirmation.

“It’s been me what?”

“These presents, all throughout the month. They’ve all been from you. But why haven’t you said anything? Why the secrecy? Why like this? Why me?” He knew his voice was shaky as well, but it was all too much now, somehow, even though this was what he'd been hoping for. It could go so well, but it could also go so wrong as had so many other things in his life and what he would lose if things didn’t work out, he almost couldn’t bear to think about.

“Oh, James.” Lewis’ voice was soft and tender tinged with a slight sadness. Hathaway felt arms go round his shoulders and a cheek on the top of his head. “I knew this would go arse up in the end. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? So you...what? You felt sorry for me? “ Hathaway almost choked on the words. “For the sad, introvert too clever by half sergeant that nobody could stand for any period of time? The one who’d fall in love with not only an older superior, but a man at that. Show me that you were my friend despite all that; that you _cared_?”

Lewis sighed heavily and went around the taller man so he was sitting in front of him, facing him. “You really can be a thick one, can’t you? But I guess it takes one to know one." He sighed again. "James, if my feelings were platonic, do you really think I’d have done all that? Of course you don’t; you’ve worked out it was me a long time ago and didn’t say anything – or request a transfer.” The inspector smiled in a strange sad-fond way and ran a gentle, but cautious finger down the blonde’s cheek.

The tentative, fragile hope in Hathaway’s eyes almost broke the northerner’s heart. “Laura helped,” he admitted, smiling just the teeniest bit. “But then why like this, sir? If you knew how I felt, why do it this way?” He gestured with the unopened gift he still held in his hand.

“Would you believe me if I said it was to give you a way out? I was scared, bonny lad. Scared to be rejected – love doesn’t usually come for old, battered codgers like me. Honestly I didn’t know how you felt, but I had a...well, a hunch, that you just _might_ feel the same way about me. If I’d just come out and said that I loved you, though, you’d have fed me a line about gay relationships in the police force or something like that. Or worse, you’d have said nothing at all. So I thought and thought – and would you lower that eyebrow, I did – and then I heard that god-awful song on the radio and it clicked. I could show you you were loved and if you didn’t work it out or did and didn’t feel the same way, no harm would’ve been done and we could go on as if nothing had happened. We still can, if you want to.”

James just stared. Then he looked out of the window again, earning him a puzzled look from the inspector; no, still no snow. Or any sickly cheerful Father Christmas laugh fading away either. Still not dreaming, then.

He looked back at Lewis, eyes actually conveying his emotions for once, a smile slowly blossoming on his face as the meaning and the reality hit him. “I’m still in two minds about whether I’d have preferred you stick with the gifts specified in the song or not.” Of course a sentence like  _th_ _at_ had to come out of his mouth as the first thing.

“Oi, I did do the ‘five gold rings’!” the older man huffed, grinning as he put his forehead against Hathaway’s. “Also, you still haven’t opened the twelfth present, pet. Might be all of them as Christmas ornaments, for all you know.”

“Not as light as this.” The blonde was practically beaming.

“Best open it, then, hadn’t you?”

When the lid was pulled off, the gift was almost invisible in its nest of silk paper. They pulled it out together and James could see it was indeed a small silver ornament. A silver ornament in the shape of mistletoe.

“I didn’t think a real one would keep in the box,” Lewis said by way of explanation. Whatever else he’d planned to say, though, was cut off as he found himself with an armful of Hathaway, soft broad lips being pressed firmly and insistently against his own.

When they at last broke for air, the sergeant was grinning widely. “Holiday tradition, sir, we must keep to it.”

“Oh, aye? And what did I tell you would happen if you called me ‘sir’ tonight?”

“Oh, but I’ve already gotten everything I wanted for Christmas, _Robbie_.” With that, the kissing recommenced.

...They never did make it to the Midnight Mass after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. All done. Hope the last chapter lives up to the expectations and ends in a satisfying way. I hoped to tie it all off on a sweet note, which is why I ditched my first draft of a longer, more "angsty" discussion between the two. Didn't seem to fit, so this is what you got. Hope it cheers you up as it's cheered me up to write it.  
> Comments are as always loved and treasured as is constructive criticism.
> 
> I *might* do a smutty extra for what they get up to so as to miss Midnight Mass, but that is up to you all, if you want it, and will be a separate bit to keep this one clean.


	13. It was the night before Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What made them miss Mass, then? Nothing G-rated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, have another chapter (with another horrible title, sorry) :)  
> So yes, I made the extra and decided it should be in the main story as a chapter. I've only done smut once and I sincerely apologize in advance - I tried, at least.
> 
> No betas or britpickers, mistakes (both word- and content-wise) are all my own.
> 
> For the wonderful Somniare, who wanted to know why they didn't get to Mass ;)

Hathaway honestly couldn’t believe this was happening. For it to happen at all was a miracle and then for it to happen on Christmas Eve – it was almost TV show standard of a cliché. Not that he minded, but the irony of it wasn’t entirely lost on him.

After all, who could mind such trivialities when the object of your love and desire was sighing happily into your lips as you kissed him? Not only that, he was kissing back just as enthusiastically as you were kissing him.

After what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all at the same time, which was downright ridiculous to be honest, Lewis started pushing gently at Hathaway’s shoulders from his position sprawled on his back on the carpeted floor. He went on delivering small kisses all over the other’s face on the way to a sitting position for them both, so as to stop the uncertainty creeping back onto that far too-young face.

“How about we take this somewhere more comfortable, eh, lad?” he whispered and smiled. ” The presents will keep, but I’m not sure me back’s gonna like me if we stay. Especially for...other things than kissing.”

_Oh? Oh. Oh!_ “So that means...you want to...we can...” Eloquent, Hathaway, as always.

“If I’d known it’d only take a good snog for you to lose your eloquence, I might have done so sooner.” the northerner grinned then let it fade to a soft smile. “It’s only if you want to, pet, but for what it’s worth, it’s on offer.”

Robbie felt the growl as much as he heard it, so close to the other man’s chest. “It’s worth _everything_!”

With that, the older man was practically yanked to his feet and kissed so hard it almost hurt. James tangled his tongue with his inspector’s over and over as if to commit all tastes and movements to memory. Meanwhile long hands fumbled with the buckle on Lewis’ belt, which eventually landed on the floor with a loud thunk.

“Easy, James, slow down. There’s no rush,” Robbie tried to soothe when they broke apart and gripped the long hands with his own stubbier, sturdier ones, twining their fingers together. “Let’s make this something to remember, yeah?”

“Oh, yes, because the night I finally got my hands on Detective Inspector Robert Lewis is something I’m likely to forget otherwise,” Hathaway drawled, lust and mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Let’s just get to the bedroom before I decide you need to be punished for your cheekiness.”

“Careful, si-Robbie. For all you know, that could be a turn-on.” The voice was still as dry as bone, the only sign of mischief still contained in his eyes.

“And I could have a secret fantasy about seeing you in fishnets, leather outfit and excessive makeup, for all you know, lad. Don’t think that just because I’m old, everything is set in stone. But let’s save the more extreme kinks for some other time, yeah? Keeping the bedroom fresh n all that.”

“I must say, I like the way your mind works, Robbie,” James practically _purred_ , which sent shivers down the northerner’s spine and a jolt to his groin, which hadn’t been laying dormant as it was.

“Bedroom, now!”

“Right you are, sir.” James didn’t quite know how he was managing to keep the banter going, what with his head still spinning and his nether regions very much taking charge of his remaining brain functions. So as not to jeopardize the bit of control he still seemed to possess, he pushed his superior backwards towards the bedroom as quickly as he could, kissing him all the way there.

By the time the back of Lewis’s knees hit the mattress, causing him to sit down and break the kiss, Hathaway was practically trembling. Part of it was nerves and the sheer astonishment that this was honestly happening, but mainly it was in months of repressed desire now boiling to the surface. He licked his lips and willed himself to be more in control of his body.

“Lie back, sir,” he instructed, voice coming out lower and more breathy than he’d anticipated. “Take your shirt off and lie back. I want to see you.”

The older man complied without a word, hands shaking ever so slightly as they manoeuvred the garment up and off, leaving him in his vest and jeans and obviously feeling just a little self-conscious despite his more than evident arousal.

Hathaway, now shirtless as well, didn’t leave him much time to be embarrassed. “Move a little further up the bed. Vest off, too – I want to see you and feel you. _All_ of you.” With that, he bent down and deftly undid the button of the other’s jeans and let his knuckles run lightly over the bulge beneath, covered in white cotton, as he opened the zipper. The strangled gasp he heard from near the top of the bed made him smile and do it again, earning another gasp.

The jeans hit the floor along with the white cotton pants – and would the sergeant forego the opportunity to tease Lewis about that later? Would he _hell_ – and James stood back for a moment, just drinking in the sight of his beloved inspector, naked and wanting before him. His hair was mussed, his pupils were dilated, his face and other parts were flushed and he was trembling. Simply beautiful.

“Oi! Stop staring at me, man. I’m not some kind of candy in a store window!”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” James _was_ purring this time. He dropped to his knees in front of Robbie and let his hands run up the calves still hanging over the edge of the bed and up past knees where he stopped to caress the back of them, earning a shudder, and then moved up the thighs, stroking patterns on the skin as he went. When he got to the point where the hairs tapered off, his fingers stilled and then started to rub circles and odd little lines, getting closer and closer to the inside of the thighs. “I, for one, would very much like to eat you.”

The groan and the twitch from Lewis’ arousal he earned from that sent his own erection twitching in his by now much too tight jeans. He chose to forego cursing Laura a bit for that, focusing instead of trailing his fingers past his governor’s obvious need, which in turn earned him a small whimper, and up the sides until he reached as far as he could from his position on the floor, which was the start of the armpits. As his hands trailed over the chest, stopping to pinch the nipples lightly and tangle for a moment in the curly hair in the middle, the noises grew in frequency and variety. Everything from groans to gasps to small sounds that could well be more whimpers spilled from the older man’s lips and James revelled in each and every one of them. Even if it made him almost painfully hard.

“So responsive, my Robbie, so sexy” he murmured, voice low and husky with need. “And so obviously enjoying this.” He let out a breath over the cock in front of him, making it twitch even more. “Let’s see what sounds might be coaxed from you if I do this.”

Lewis almost bucked off the bed, a startled shout on his lips, as wet heat coated in delicious softness and pliancy closed over his erection. Then he felt the tip of a tongue probing slowly, gliding along the underside of the head and once flicking into the slit and he let out a sound between a moan and a whimper while his hands gripped the covers tightly, body trembling even more.

“Oh, gods, James...You don’t have to...You don’t– oh, _God_!” James hummed, but didn’t look up from where his nose was nearing the dark pubic hair as he took the erection as far into his mouth as it would go, flicking his tongue occasionally as he went. He gripped hold of Robbie’s thighs then slid his hands along until he had hold of soft buttocks which he gently kneaded.

The cock in his mouth pulsed and throbbed as he slowly dragged his mouth back until only the head was still encased in velvety wet heat and the trembling increased significantly when he hollowed his cheeks and started sucking. He felt sturdy hands tangle almost painfully in his hair as he started bobbing his head up and down.

“James...I haven't...I’m not used to...oh...oh, gods...oh...yes...oh... _oh_!”

The blonde continued his ministrations but after a while let go of the inspector’s bum. One free hand went to clumsily undo the fly of his own jeans and free his at that point painfully hard erection, then started to stroke it as best he could, while the other trailed over to gently cup and then toy with Lewis’ balls.

“James...please...I’m going to...oh...I can’t...”

The sergeant merely hummed his approval. The stimulus of that combined with the hand moving from his balls to press ever so lightly at his opening sent the inspector over the edge and he came, shuddering and gasping. Hathaway felt the hands in his hair tugging even harder but he didn’t move away, continuing instead to suck and lick as the semen shot down his throat.

When the older man was well and truly spent, James let the slowly softening erection fall out of his mouth with a soft pop. A look at what he’d achieved and a few hard tugs on his own cock was all he needed to reach his own release and he groaned as he spilled over his own hand.

He only realized he’d closed his eyes when he felt a hand on his cheek and his eyelids fluttered open. In front of him was the face of his inspector, who’d laid himself on his stomach on the bed in front of James, looking tired but utterly satisfied and happy.

“Would go figure you’d do something like that for me and then not even give me a chance to reciprocate,” Lewis smiled and leant his own forehead against his sergeant’s. “Come up here, lad, you look done in and I’d very much like to be wrapped in my very own Hathaway when I go to sleep.” James blinked a few times then scrambled to get up on the bed, kicking his shoes, jeans and pants off as best he could as he went.

When they were both settled under the covers, Lewis indeed wrapped in the long limbs of his own Hathaway, the blonde said something.

“What was that?” Lewis mumbled, already half-asleep.

“I said that it wasn’t a question of reciprocation. It was about doing something I wanted to do, something I’ve fantasized about for a long time. Also, you’ve given me so much this month that it would be unfair not to do something for you. Turnabout and all that.” Hathaway looked at the older man then he grinned and grabbed a handful of bum, which made Robbie start. “Besides, if you want to reciprocate...well, there’s still Christmas Day, not to mention Boxing Day, isn’t there, sir?”

“There is indeed, lad. But if you want this old body ready for all that, how about we skip Mass?”

“Of course. What should I pray for, anyway, when I’ve got all I want right here?”

“You sappy old romantic.”

“Yup. But only for you.”

“Sleep, James.”

...

“Love you, Robbie.”

“Love you too, pet. Merry Christmas.”

"Merry Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried, honestly I tried. I'm sure I failed miserably at writing something even halfway smutty, but there you are. At least I can still nail sweet, hm? As always, comments and constructive criticisms are welcomed, treasured and loved.
> 
> I'm sure you've all already read it, but just for good measure - I had Lamardeuse's lovely "Hot Patootie" fic - http://archiveofourown.org/works/338052 - in mind when writing about Lewis' possible fantasy, just in case you didn't recognize the get-up.

**Author's Note:**

> There goes the first day, short and sweet I hope. It's my plan to put up a chapter for each gift and I hope to get a new chapter up every day. If you have any suggestions for presents, feel free to tell me. Well, feel free to tell me if it sucks too, of course. I am never that certain I get James right at all, so...yeah.  
> Also, you get no cookies for guessing the sender ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [On the first day of Christmas...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/608375) by [Somniare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare)




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